Torn
by Shocotate
Summary: It's nothing he can't handle by himself; 'He' needn't concern himself with it. Not yet. A collection of Pride centric ficlets on his actions on the Promised day until the end of the manga.
1. Torn

Hello all, I'm kinda back (working on chapter 22 right now, don't worry), and for a little bit of a teaser before my new chapter I am going to post this little Pride related ficlet.

This was my entry for the fma_fic contest Prompt #99, Seamless (Jan 21st to Jan 27th), posted using my LiveJournal account under my alternate name 'Colo(u)rBlindZebra' (Do you guys think I should change my fanfiction name to this as well? let me know what you think ^_^).

This was my first entry in the contest, it didn't place, but I still like it. I'm not sure if I should expand it into a longer one-shot since I had trouble trying to fit everything into the 250 word limit, since I'm not sure I'll just leave it as it is for now.

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Title: Torn  
Author: ColourBlindZebra  
Series: Manga/Brotherhood  
Word Count: 250  
Rating: PG-13 because I'm paranoid  
Characters: Pride. Others mentioned.  
Prompt:Seamless  
Summary: It's nothing he can't handle by himself; 'He' needn't concern himself with it. Not yet.  
Warnings: Spoilers for up to chapter 105. Contains a little bit of head-canon, as I believe that Pride saw the Truth when he performed human transmutation, so could do circle-less alchemy, but didn't as it would severely accelerate the rate of his container's deterioration , since he seems reluctant to use his powers as well.  
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is in perfect hands as it is, I wouldn't dare try to steal it.

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He pressed his palm into his damaged cheek, Edward Elric's handiwork, shielding it from the outside world. No one must see it.

_Father _must not see it.

A loud _crack_ issued from beneath his hand, the crevice in his face eating its way upwards. Pride cursed inwardly at the Truth Father had dragged down for the umpteenth time, the foolish thing, believing that Father was incapable of such things.

The First homunculus closed his eye as the skin beneath it crumbled, dissolving into dust, it now sitting precariously in his eyelid, broken fragments of artificial bone the only thing supporting it, threatening to fade as well. Brushing his fingertips past each other- a haphazard imitation of his 'beloved' Tiny Alchemist- he cupped his cheek.

Pride could only resist a wince and uselessly cover the hole in his face as his eyelid burned away, his vision melting into nothing but a blurred mess while whatever remained of his right eye spilled out between his fingers, taking far longer to fade from existence. The souls inside him stirred, shrieking, fewer than before.

His seamless, perfect container, the one Father had given him, had _made_ for him, that had held him for longer than he could recall, that never gave any outward indication that he was anything other than a child, the appropriate, desired response.

It had been torn, reduced to shameful tatters.

And there was only one tailor who could repair it.

But Father has much more important things to attend to.

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Reviews appreciated~


	2. Deterioration

A/N I actually decided to write a follow up to this for another prompt can you believe it? In fact, I might right a couple more actually so keep your eyes peeled ^.^

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Title: Deterioration  
Author: ColourBlindZebra  
Series: Manga/Brotherhood  
Word Count: 1172  
Rating: PG-13 because I'm still paranoid  
Characters: Pride. Others mentioned.  
Prompt:Switch  
Summary: It was rather fitting, ironic even, if far too degrading to be worth it. But…that was fine, Father could alter it later, when he wasn't preoccupied.  
Warnings: Spoilers for up to chapter 106.

Disclaimer: Chances are it's a very good thing I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, otherwise it probably wouldn't be about Ed much…

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He watched out a single violet eye, cold and out of place as it was, staring intently as Father's blurred form blurred further and disappeared from sight through the fog. The oil that had 'killed' Greed glowed a soft orange beneath him, the warmth of it licking at his container's skin, flowing around at his feet and over his shadows. Pride grimaced, and scoffed, hopping between the fluorescent puddles to a place he deemed more secure for the time being.

Father had gone, left him to fend for himself while he reversed their sacrifices' futile attempts to resist and be stubborn and ruin their plans. And that was fine, he could look after himself. Pride would have gladly gave Father every last soul in his Philosopher's stone, but Father valued him, and had chosen to leave and take the souls of the humans above instead, and soon Father would come back and dispose of the sacrifices and Greed and everyone else and everything would be perfect. He almost smiled, but the _crack _from his hollow eye socket made him scowl, what right did they have to resist? They had been merciful to them, leaving them alive while everyone else had been a required price for Father's plan, and yet Van Hohenheim thought he had a choice in the matter, to steal away the souls that belonged to Father and return them to those _humans._

And _her _soul too, he was sure.

Pride purged the thought, pushing his hand further into the cavity in his face, forcing back the shadows that had started to slowly press and twist over his palm at the thought, they were becoming so disobedient. They tensed, and scratched uneasily at his insides at that.

_Stop that…now…_

They slowed their place as the artificial skin began to flake and peel away, instead trailing down and spilling out through his feet in jagged, distorted waves, again without his permission. The souls inside him shrieked again, well aware of the damage that they could never repair, only make worse if they so much as tried, perhaps they were mocking him, relishing in his situation, delighted at what Truth had done to him. It would be repaired soon enough; he just needed to be patient.

Pride shook his head; he wasn't focusing on the matter at hand. He bit back a sigh, deciding it was better to make his move while they were distracted, searching for the safest route closer, he huddled his shadows nearer, lest they break apart and fade away like everything else, but they refused to be forced back into his container. He ignored them. Pride chanced it, leaping forward blindly, and stumbled and fell in a graceless heap, legs buckling. He shuddered, and he felt it reverberate through every part of his now almost hollow container. Minute specks of dust sparkled as they floated and swam upwards through his vision; it took him a few seconds to realize it was his dissolving fragments of '_skin'_.

Pride knew he'd never really considered it a possibility, not even after Truth had said to him, not even after he'd lost his cheek and his eye; he'd just accepted it as something that was impossible and would be swiftly dealt with once Father had seen to more important matters. It was still impossible, his container wouldn't…Father had made it…it could never…

It could never completely break…

His heaving chest dared to convince him otherwise, and through his blurred sight he could see the fingers on his spare hand digging into the stone floor (_it would have been better if they were made of Philosopher's stones, _the naïve thought crossed his mind before he could realize, and he cursed himself), bending backwards and contorting, the remaining shadows within restless and perhaps…afraid?

Pride shut his 'good' eye, forcing himself to remember, remember the times before his container, surely he could survive without it, even if temporarily. He'd like to believe that he was given his container soon after being created, awaking with a start, smiling, and shadows hanging at his feet, grateful and dignified and oh so _proud_. But he knew such things were delusions, little more than lies, and yet the truth eluded him, he simply did not remember such times, as if some part of him thought it was better left to the imagination. But what good would that do now?

A faint, disgusting idea welled up in his mind, and he pushed himself onto his knees and retched a little at the thought.

_He couldn't possibly lower himself to such a level…_

Pride paused, and accepted it after a moment, gulping back down the remnants of his breakfast the day before, back when…

Such thoughts were irrelevant, his façade was irrelevant here, whether the plan had succeeded with or without him, _she _was an irrelevancy either way, mustn't think about her anymore, that wasn't really him, however similar they were, however warm and safe he had felt when she smothered him in a goodbye hug (how oblivious she had been), less than forty-eight hours ago, innocent smile on his face as he accepted it all too willingly.

It felt like forty-eight years, or decades…

The thought continued, even as he looked over Father's sacrifices, eye straining through the haze. Alphonse Elric was too much of a risk, nothing good for long term 'residence' at any rate. He smirked as he considered Roy Mustang, being in his condition he had little means of resisting, but what use would he be without sight himself? Pride thought better of it, even more reasons against it pooling in his head, he continued on.

It wasn't because Roy Mustang killed Lust…of course not…

Time was of the essence when his eye fell on Edward Elric, using his spare hand to support himself, his shadows fanned out around him, cracking and dispersing without warning, his fabricated lungs no doubt torn to shreds given how deep he needed to breathe to just focus for one more second.

It was fitting, in a way, he recalled with what might have been a smile (none of his shadows were smiling though), he recalled the time what might have been several lifetimes ago, that his façade respected Edward Elric with all his being, he wanted to be an alchemist when and if he grew up, but that would never happen, not even if he waited a thousand years, it would save time if he just, _pretended _to be Edward instead.

_And for that he would need an awfully convincing costume._

Justifying it was pointless now, and Pride just forced all his energy into ensnaring his 'beloved Tiny Alchemist', forcing the shattered pieces of his shadows together into one secure tendril, one that wouldn't fall apart.

Shameful as it was, it didn't matter anymore, he couldn't die to simply preserve his own pride, Father was far more important, and he would assist Father in any way possible.

_Even if that meant switching his once flawless container for the body of a human._

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	3. Scattered Pictures

This is probably going to be my final chapter on this, but I might change my mind at a later date. I did run into problems with this one in keeping to the word limit since I had so many ideas I wanted to use, so I probably will be adding more to this soon, but I doubt it will go over 800 words at any rate ^.^.

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Title: Scattered pictures

Author: ColourBlindZebra  
Series: Manga/Brotherhood  
Word Count: 500  
Rating: PG because I'm no longer _that _paranoid

Characters: Pride, Mrs. Bradley

Prompt:Redemption  
Summary: Everything fades

Warnings: Post-Manga  
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is definitely not mine.  
Notes: I apologise in advance for going for the most obvious option for this prompt ever. First attempt of second person POV, so I'm a little worried about how it turned out. Still contains lots of head-canon. The title was taken from Barbara Streisand's 'The way we were', since I heard it was the most overused montage song ever, but I'd never heard of it and decided to see it, and I thought it was rather fitting here.

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On the first day she cried, and you just stared at her, she thinks you don't remember, but you do. It's better that way, as you lay quietly on your mock cradle, fitting perhaps, you think so, because you don't deserve anything anymore, even the soap dish and one of _her _handkerchiefs is too good for you. She puts on a brave face the next day, she smiles and coos gentle things to you while she feeds you warm milk with a pipette; you don't hate the fact that it's so much bigger than you now, you hate the fact that you still know what it's called, or that you understand every word. But you don't cry, because that will make her sad, you just try to pretend, pretend and deceive her like you've been doing ever since you were born.

No, you just sit still and silent instead, eyes wide and roaming around with false curiosity, you mustn't fall asleep, you know that there is no peace to be found there, nothing but shadows and teeth and things that make you wake squirming and sobbing, it's all because you can still think and understand, as much as you wish you couldn't.

A week passes, and the fact you still know the passing of time makes you scowl as she feeds you again with that…with that…she smiles as you giggle and laugh at the loss of your memories, she doesn't know the cause of your sudden amusement, and perhaps, you think, that eventually you won't either. That evening you do something terrible, her screaming ripping you from a shadow filled nightmare, and you cry too and promise to yourself to never do it again, whatever it was, you mustn't ever make her unhappy, never again.

Your second chance mustn't be wasted so soon.

Soon the dreams become blurry and fade away to nothing, and after a while everything else starts to as well, you find yourself smiling whenever that pleasant woman appears in front of you, sometimes she changes whatever you're laying on, and other times she just sits near to you, and when you're hungry you don't cry, because she won't like that. And at such thoughts you clench your tiny hands and put your thumb in your mouth to calm down, because you know that thinking like that means you're not ready yet.

One day, somewhere, you wake with a quiet little noise and something rubbing over your face, and it might be you, but you don't know. Everything looks so bright and interesting and you've never seen anything like them before. But then you feel like there's someone else, someone…and you cry and cry because that person isn't here. And yet suddenly she is, you're bigger now, so she lifts you up and coos close to you, and you push closer to her and cry for a reason you no longer remember.

And you feel as though, for the first time, everything is right in the world.

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End file.
